Whore Diaries II: Adventures in Independent Escorting Read Online Free PDF Page B

covered in slippery lube.  I roll it on with my lips and pull his whole cock into my mouth.
     
    It's the perfect size -- big enough for good fucking, small enough for sucking without jaw pain.  I hum while I go down on him, moving my tongue the opposite of my lips until he pulls me off, gasping that he doesn't want to cum yet.  Do I want him to lick me, he asks?  Fuck yeah.
     
    At first he just licks around the edges of my labia, which does nothing for me, but I encourage him in to the sweet spot and he licks and nibbles until I cum, my hips pushed up into his face. 
     
    “Damn, you're good,” I pant. 
     
    What position does he like?  Him on top.  I'm so excited to have him inside me, but it's disappointing when he does push in.  I don't know why.  We have a good connection, I'm highly aroused, he's a good size...maybe it's the shape.  Soon he's sweating like a sprinkler on top of me.  I try giving his chest little kisses to make him cum faster, but there's too much sweat.  He finally rolls off me and says he can't cum with condoms.  Will I just give him a handjob?  Sure.  I play with his balls and work his cock until he cums all over my tits, and then I make my sexy blow job face and rub it in and he says, “Oh, fuck.” 
     
    After the cuddling, he says it's the best sex he's ever had in his whole life and that he definitely wants to see me again, as long as he doesn't have a girlfriend the next time I'm in town.
     
     

RIGHT NOW
     
     
     
    Before he arrives I realize I don't know anything about him.  He is polite and literate.  He sent an email with his screening site ID and preferred appointment time, which is rather a miracle these days.  That's all I know, his name and that he has one provider okay from a lady in Florida who appears to be a real whore with plenty of reviews.  Just in case I check against a bad client website.  I don't see him listed there, but while I'm there I make a report on my last guy.  There are only a few of us here who use this site, mostly touring ladies just passing through.  This is my first report.
     
    I click through the new reports.  In the big scary city a strange man came to see a woman from California.  He showed her his oil field employee ID card for screening, but then he started asking strange questions, like a cop.  Can I have a massage?  I gave you this much money, so now you'll have sex with me, right?  How much for just a blow job?
     
    She told him no, she wasn't a licensed masseuse, she could only give back rubs.  She moved over to the other bed and said I'll masturbate over here and you masturbate over there and we can talk dirty.  He got angry and she went to the door, pulled it open, and three state troopers and an FBI agent stormed in demanding to know where her pimp was.  They put her in handcuffs and told her there was no way a woman could get to Alaska and run a business on her own, so she must have a pimp.  Finally they said they didn't have enough evidence and let her go. 
     
    “Alaska is crazy,” she concluded.
     
    Informants.  Informants.  I have to remember to be wary of them, too.  That's how law enforcement did the sting on all the massage parlors a few months ago.  They set up surveillance and made guys turn informant to avoid charges.  Then one day, after months and months of surveillance and informing, undercover cops went into each place and arrested the women for felony sexual assault and prostitution because they touched the officers penii.
     
    By the time John calls from the parking lot, I'm all fired up about cops and laws and the government and I've forgotten my presession meditation again.  He comes in and I thoughtlessly go for a kiss.  It's too much, too soon, an awkward moment, and I cover by leading him into the room, making bubbly conversation.  It turns out I know exactly who he is.  He works on wildfires, and he was around last summer for the fire near me.  I talked to him on the phone a